Living the Past
by star
Summary: The Christine and Erik of today have neglected their destinies. Upon meeting in a music lesson, past memories begin to return, and they are thrust back in time. Once there, they must fix the mistakes they made long ago.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

The first time she saw him was during a music lesson. She had got there early, and he had the lesson scheduled before her. She quietly stepped over to the couch and sat down after briefly giving a quick apologetic smile for the interruption to her teacher.

She was about to open her bag and start her homework when he began to play. Something made her lean back and listen.

There was an un-earthy quality to the music- or perhaps it was the expression behind the music. She blinked, blinked again.

It was then that the first spinning happened.

The music was all around her. The colors in the room seemed to fade and change, becoming older as if with time, like sepia tones in an old movie. And still the music carried on, lifting and rising so that now there were scenes flashing before her eyes, like a tape being set on rewind.

And now the music was reaching its crescendo, and the scenes before her eyes were moving faster and faster, and with a crash the music reached its height, until moving to slowly float way, with soft little twinkling notes.

The cold hard wash of silence greeted her ears, like a bucket of water. She leaned back against the couch, breathing hard.

Quietly her teacher said, "Very good, Erik. And now, I believe it is your turn, Christine."

Christine shook her head to clear it of whatever it was she had just experienced. She would have to figure out what all that meant later. Right now, she had to see the face of who had just played that piece with so much emotion, so much feeling. She turned towards the piano eagerly as the pianist slowly turned around, collecting his things, getting ready to leave.

He turned to face her as he stood. His eyes focused on arranging the sheet music in his arms, he did not see her face, but instead heard her gasp.

Christine stared in- no, not horror, but surprise- at the face of the person standing before her. A long thin scar curved above his eyebrows and towards his right temple in an **L** shape and another wider scar snaked down his cheek from the opposite temple.

Erik stared angrily at the girl sitting on the couch. She looked to be about 15 years old and was very pretty, with her dark green eyes and curly reddish hair. If it wasn't for the fearful way she was looking at him, he might've even liked her. But no, it was always like this. Everyone thought his music so beautiful, until they saw his face. _They're just scars, dammit!_ He thought. He stared insolently back at the eyes that were searching his.

Christine knew she was staring, but she couldn't help it. There was something there—what was it? That steady glare was so familiar, so… what? Curiously she moved her eyes up to meet his. And then it happened again.

Erik felt her eyes meet his, and surprised that she hadn't lost her nerve, looked back into hers. Like a shock wave, adrenaline burst through his veins as he began seeing things besides her green eyes. Scenes that moved so fast, swirling around him, so that he could only see a slip of a picture, a face, maybe a movement. Too fast for anything to sink in.

Frightened, Christine ripped her eyes away from his, breaking the connection. Immediately trying to look as though nothing had happened, she reached for her bag and searched desperately through it for her music book.

The teacher had watched this entire exchange in silence. "Oh!" She said. "I think I owe you two an introduction. Erik, this is Christine Daae, who learns soprano from me. Christine, this is Erik Vachon, my nephew, who, as you can see, takes piano."

Erik nodded a hello and muttered a quick thanks to his aunt, and hurried out the door, still mentally shaking himself.

The music teacher, or Francine Giry, as she was known to most, now studied Christine's reaction. She watched as Christine clumsily gathered her things and moved to her position beside the piano. "All right," Francine said to Christine. Christine stared blankly. "Christine! Vocal warm-ups! Are you in there?"

"Oh-oh, yes, sorry, Mrs. Giry. I'm kind of out of it today." There was a pause, which Francine had the good conscious not to interrupt. And then,

"Uh… well, you don't- I mean, I'm sorry- I mean, what happened to Erik?"

Knowing this question would come; Mrs. Giry only nodded and replied, "He was born with a deformity. Luckily, I adopted him when he was young enough to have the surgery."

"Ohh… He was adopted? I thought you said he was your nephew!"

"Well, to most, I say he is, but no, he is actually adopted. Sadly, his mother was afraid of his face, and I found him in a garbage bin behind my old apartment, back when my husband and I were still together…

"But I have already probably said too much. Do not let Erik know I told you this, all right? He would be… embarrassed."

Christine slowly nodded, trying to digest all the information she had just learned. It was a bit too much.

And then the first few notes came floating from the piano keys, to wake her from her reverie, and the lesson continued, and after an hour Christine left.

* * *

Francine Giry leaned against the leather of her over stuffed couch. Smiling reminiscently, she thought of the looks her two pupils had exchanged earlier that day. "And so it begins," she murmured. "And so it begins…"

* * *

Christine gazed out the windows of the bus, seeing but not really. She was not entranced by the dark trees whipping past, nor the wet cars racing towards different destinations. She was seeing a pair of yellow eyes and the scenes reflected in them, and wondering at the feeling of familiarity she couldn't seem to place. She only knew that never before had she wanted the next Thursday's music lesson to come faster. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Christine took the early bus so she could get to Erik's lesson before it ended. Excitement filled her system at the thought of hearing him play music again. A vague worry followed that the spinning might happen again, but she pushed it away.

The thing was, the spinning, or whatever it was, scared her. Christine didn't like it because she felt powerless to stop it. She could only wait until it ended. Christine hated being out of control, with one exception, that being music. Music was different because there was something so secretive in its next notes, which only the player could be in charge of, even though not even the player could have power over the music's effect.

It was being in control of something bigger and more dangerous, and in that way, Christine supposed, it was like being out of control.

Now feeling a bit more nervous about how early she was, Christine stood on the driveway outside and contemplated waiting until Erik left.

Then it began to rain.

Hurrying towards the door as big fat droplets fell on her curly golden hair; Christine didn't notice the voice singing along with the piano.

As she opened the door, the voice stopped.

"Hello Christine!" cried Mrs. Giry. "I'm glad you got here early today, I have a favor to ask you. I found this music in an old book of mine, and I think yours and Erik's voices would fit it perfectly. Do you mind?"

Distracted by the fact that Erik also sang, and busy imagining what it would sound like, Christine nodded dazedly. He looked to be about 17 years old, she mused, and then wondered where that thought had come from.

"Excellent! You can go into the library and do your warm-ups while I finish this piece with Erik here."

Christine walked into the library and looked around curiously. An old copy of "The Phantom of the Opera" by Gaston Leroux was lying on a table beside the fireplace. Christine remembered reading it a while ago, and the longing it had filled her with, the romantic-ness of the story.

Once finished warming up, Christine moved back into the living room to see Erik reading through the lyrics of their duet with a frown.

Christine took her copy and glanced at it in surprise. The notes seemed to spin on the paper, and she found that she didn't need to read the lyrics, she already knew them. Sneaking a peek at Erik, she saw the same look of surprised confusion on his face, and—why was he wearing a mask? Christine blinked and it was gone.

Then the music began.

Nervously at first, Christine began her part, but as the music lifted and rose, she forgot her uncertainty.

Erik's voice soon joined hers, and Christine turned to him amazement.

Then the spinning began.

Wind was whistling all around her, ripping at her skin, she screamed, but her voice was only swept away from her. The winds pulled at her, until she felt herself falling, drifting from one time to another completely different one.

And with a whump, Christine landed on a cold hard wood floor.

* * *

Erik stared at the music in front of him. His aunt had to be kidding. The "Point of No Return" scene from Phantom of the Opera? 

Erik had made no protest once _she_ entered, though. Every thought of exasperation had left his mind as he stared at her beautiful face. Wondering if the spinning would start again if he met her eyes, he had tried… but only met with an odd unfocused quality there. He abruptly ignored the idea that she was going through the spinning herself, and returned to his lesson.

But now she was back, and it was time for the duet. He looked over the music again, filled now with a feeling of familiarity, as if he knew the piece so well he could've written it.

She began to sing. He didn't know what to do, could not think for her voice soaring through him. He was filled with so much longing, oh, how he longed to hear that voice singing for him and only him.

And when Erik began his part, he was singing for her and only her. He saw the look of wonder on her face…

And then the spinning began.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Slowly Christine opened her eyes.

"She's coming to! She's coming to!" an excited voice called.

Christine struggled to sit up and look at the group of people surrounding her. She did not recognize any of them, and yet she could still put a name to each face. "What happened?" She mumbled, rubbing her head. It felt like it had been split in half.

"You were in the middle of singing your line in Point of No Return when you just… collapsed." Christine knew the girl saying this was Meg, and yet she also knew she had never seen her before in her life. So why was she suddenly remembering a time playing games together as children?

"_What!"_ Christine moaned.

The curvy figure of Madame Giry suddenly appeared at Christine's side. Christine sighed in relief.

"Oh Mrs. Giry, I'm so glad you're here, where are we? What happened? I remember the wind, it must've happened to you, too! Where is—"

Now Madame Giry interrupted her. "My dear, I must say I have no idea what you're talking about. You have been here, in the Opera Garnier, this entire time, you must have-"

"The Opera Garnier!" Christine cried in horror.

"Yes, the Opera Garnier, we were doing rehearsal when you fainted. I told you not to skip meals today-"

"No! The Opera Garnier! In Paris?"

The cast and crew now began to laugh at the silly disoriented girl lying on the floor. Lazily, the crowd around Christine dissipated. She was left with Madame Giry.

"Honestly dear, are you sure you're all right? Maybe you should go lie down—"

"Yes, yes, but-- _Paris!_ And why are there candles everywhere!" Christine asked impatiently.

Madame Giry looked mildly surprised. "There are candles so we can see. You would not like to work in darkness, would you? Now I really think you should go lie down."

"But… candles? And-" suddenly something clicked in Christine's mind. "What year is this?" She asked suspiciously.

"1863… Now really," Madame Giry looked seriously concerned. "You must go lie down!"

"Yes," said Christine shakily. "I think I should too." Somehow she found her way to her dormitory and collapsed on the bed. Her mind was in tumult.

She was remembering things that hadn't happened. Her father dying… She was filled with staggering grief at this… A voice singing to her from within the walls of her dressing room…

Yet something told her they most definitely had. Her mind hooked on two things- one being the book that had been lying on the table by the fireplace at her music lesson. The second was Erik. Where was he? Was he stuck in 1863, also?

And how didI get to 1863? Christine thought wildly. It had to have something to do with the spinning, she figured. It had to.

Just then someone knocked on the door. Feeling slightly nauseated, Christine watched-who was it? Ah yes- Raoul- come in.

"Christine! Christine! What happened? I heard you passed out during your rehearsal! Are you all right?"

"Yes, I'm fine," she said curtly, remembering a certain conversation on the rooftop awhile ago and feeling embarrassed that all she could think of was Erik, and where he was. And also a sneaking suspicion that if she was Christine Daae, then Erik must be her phantom.

"Christine! Truly, are you all right?"

"Yes, Raoul, I'm fine," Christine felt rather annoyed. "I just need some sleep."

"Oh. All right, well, I'll be going then…" Raoul paused. "I love you, Christine."

He said it so sincerely that Christine felt guilty that she couldn't say it honestly back, and so instead pretended to already be asleep. She heard the door click, and then the memories came rushing back.

Raoul was giving her an engagement ring… Erik was staring at her with so much hurt in his eyes at the Masquerade…

Christine knew she had to find Erik. And sporting her new memories, she knew she had to go through the mirror.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Erik slowly surveyed his surroundings. Candles were glowing everywhere, mounted in the stone walls, in vases above the organ. Erik did not recognize anything, and yet he felt utterly at home in this eccentric cellar he seemed to be in. Or he would have, if he wasn't so confused abut what'd happened. All he could remember was the spinning, and winds, and – Christine! Where was she? He could feel her, as though she was part of the air, and yet he couldn't see her.

"Erik!" an anguished call from across the– lake? The lake that Erik had just noticed. Without hesitation he leapt down and into the swan-shaped gondola lying at the lake's shore, pushing off towards that beautiful voice.

* * *

Once Christine had found the crack between the mirror and the wall, she had been able to pry the two apart and get into the dank hallway beyond. Running lightly, she had ignored the freezing water dripping from the ceiling and the colder and colder air that brushed her skin and chilled her through her thin Aminta costume.

She had not been counting on the lake, however. Christine could've kicked herself. In her desperation, she had forgotten about how she would get across. She had been distracted by the feeling spreading through her of Erik's nearness.

She could feel him now. He was in the breeze. Hopefully she called his name, not daring to take her eyes off the lake in front of her.

Then she saw him, unfocused at first, cloudy from the mist rising off the lake, gliding across in the gondola. Christine knew without a doubt that this was the same Erik she had met in music lessons.

So full of relief she didn't know what to say, Christine could only stand there dumbly and stare. Erik was wearing a mask… was that simply because he was now her phantom, in the same way she was now Christine, or…? She peered closer at the half of his face she could see, and realized the scar was missing.

"Oh!" She thought. "Of course, the surgery hasn't happened yet…"

* * *

Quietly Erik said, "Why, hello Christine." He held out his hand and helped her into the gondola, relishing the feel of her skin on his, never wanting to let go.

Christine could no longer stay silent. Bursting with all she had to say, she said the first thing that came into her head, "Erik! Erik, we are somehow in the Phantom of the Opera, in 1863, and I don't know how it happened, I asked Madame Giry, and- and she said it was 1863..."

Erik had stiffened. "My aunt is here?"

"No, no, I thought it was her too, it looks just like her, but when I asked her what had happened, she told me I had fainted, and oh, I am so frustrated and confused, but somehow we've traveled back in time, how? Because—" Christine suddenly felt very dizzy. The spinning was happening again. "Stop!" she cried wildly, trying to grab a hold of Erik, but unable to see as the winds of time swirled around.

For Christine had asked time a question, and time intended to answer her.

* * *

Francine Giry glanced at the book lying on the table beside the crackling fire. Something caused the pages to flutter. Leaning back into the deep cushions behind her, Francine reached for the book, and then drew her hand away. "It's best not to know yet…" she murmured, and sighed.

* * *

Time was swirling all around her, so much it seemed as though Christine could feel it, as though time were just another tangible object.

Exactly as the first spinning, scenes were becoming visible, only now moving slow enough for Christine to recognize them.

There was Erik, and yet it wasn't Erik, more what seemed to be a shell of him, sitting with his face in his hands. He lifted his head and Christine gasped at the deformity there. It seemed as though there was too much bone in half of Erik's forehead and the cheekbone underneath.

And now there was Erik again, and suddenly there was Christine herself. The Christine in the scene briefly touched Erik's hand, then turned and left. Erik stood and stared after the spot Christine had stood in, eyes blazing, face set. Then the scene seemed to become a puff of smoke, which turned into the burning Opera Garnier.

Christine now could feel herself falling; the winds in her ears were becoming fainter. Desperate for an explanation for what she had seen, Christine screamed, "Why are you showing me these things!"

With a quiet hiss in her ear, time answered, "Because you must fix them."


	5. Chapter 5

Thank you guys so much for the wonderful reviews! They are my number one reason to keep writing, and I love you guys! Sorry this chapter is so short, I promise things will speed up soon. Thanks again for all of the reviews! I can't say it enough! ...And now, on to the action! ;) 

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****Chapter 5**

Erik stared at the spot Christine had just stood in. "Christine!" he called sharply, trying not to panic. All he had understood from her was that somehow they had traveled back in time. Erik slowly poled his way back across the lake, thinking hard. He believed that they had truly gone back in time, what other explanation could there be for where he was now? Christine was probably swept up with time at this exact moment, he thought wryly.

Erik winced. What was that feeling?

Suddenly memories were flooding him. His mother was turning from him as he felt someone pulling him away… People were laughing as he felt the harsh sting of a whip on his back… Oh! Now there was a rope around the person wielding the whip's throat, he, Erik, had the ends… someone- Madame Giry- was motioning him towards an opening in the Cellars of the Opera House…

Now the memories picked up speed. He was singing to Christine through a hollow wall... Christine was kissing someone- Raoul! - on a rooftop, anger like fire surged through Erik at this, and the cold trickle of betrayal… Now he saw himself writing something… Notes upon notes written on parchment titled _Don Juan Triumphant_… passion, passion overflowing poured into the notes… and now, glimpses of Christine… Christine… Christine!

For Christine had just appeared standing unsteadily near the organ in front of him. Erik inhaled harshly and ran to her; catching her as she stumbled and helping her sit down on the organ bench.

Afraid to take his eyes off of her, Erik slowly exhaled, trying to reassure himself that she was really there. What was wrong with him? Never, never had his thoughts been so occupied with one person. Why was Christine so different?

Maybe, he thought, studying her face, it was the air of innocence about her. The sadness that seemed to be there, in the darkest corners of her eyes, as if the ways of the world and its hatefulness had disappointed her.

"Are you alright?" Erik asked tentatively, a look of worry upon his face.

Christine nodded slowly and blinked. "Erik…" she mumbled. "We've gone back in time…" Christine then became limp. Erik shook himself slightly, then lifted her gently, and took her back to the dormitory.


	6. Chapter 6

_Thanks so much for all of the wonderful reviews! Sorry this chapter is so short; once again, I can guarantee you that things will be speeding up soon. Thanks again for the reviews! I love you guys!_

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**Chapter 6**

Christine lay flopped on her bed, staring at the ceiling above her. A part of her wanted to think about what time had just shown her, and another part wanted to forget everything. She decided to compromise with herself, and read the note Erik had left her again.

_Christine-_

_You passed out yesterday and I brought you back here. _

_Erik_

She allowed herself a wry smile, then brought her thoughts back around to what time had shown her. What was it she needed to fix? What did the scenes time had shown her have to do with fixing something?

She propped herself up against the old wood headboard. Trying to fight it but unable to, Erik's battered face appeared in her mind again. Christine let her eyes drift shut. _Why am I here? Why was I chosen to fix this?_

Reluctantly, she pulled her covers off and got ready for that day's rehearsal.

* * *

Erik stared at his mask-less reflection in the mirror. So this was what he would look like if he never had had the surgery.

He was trying to distract himself, he knew. The fact that somehow, he had traveled 142 years into the past was a bit much. There was also the question of _why_ he had traveled 142 years into the past. And those memories! They definitely seemed to be his, but they couldn't be! Besides, there was a certain hollow quality about them, and the feelings during them didn't seem to make sense. He was sure he had never seen that Raoul before, and yet he remembered being jealous of him! And in those memories… well… he was quite sure that in them he was in love with Christine. But that couldn't be! Could it?


	7. Chapter 7

_Thanks for the reviews! I've just realized that I forgot to add in Erik and Christine's ages (oops!) and so here they are: Erik is 17 and Christine is 15. I added that info into the 1st and 2nd chappies, but I'm telling you guys that have already read those chapters right now. Thanks again for reviewing and reading!_

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* * *

Chapter 7**

Mrs. Giry idly flipped the pages of the book. Curiosity, combined with the desire to know of her two students' well-being, had eventually overcome her. Now she simply felt impatient. Francine shut the book and held it in her hands, glaring at the weathered cover bearing the title _The Phantom of the Opera_, waiting for something.

Nothing happened.

Heaving a great sigh, she dropped the book and started for the kitchen.

If Mrs. Giry would've turned around at the exact moment she picked up her coffee pot, she would've seen something truly spectacular.

As if a breeze had rustled through, the book fell open to the ending of a chapter 13. The next page was oddly blank, and, if you would've flipped through the rest of the book, you would've found that the rest of the pages were also empty.

On the blank page, words slowly began to form, as if the ink creating them was bleeding through from the page beneath. Print slowly filled up one page, then the page turned and print began to fill up the next. Sometimes a word would begin to form, only to disappear and be replaced with another.

Finally, after 3 blank pages were filled, the book seemed satisfied and shut.

Mrs. Giry slowly walked over to her couch, a very full coffee mug in her hands. She carefully set it down beside the book, and, lifting the old musty thing gingerly, began to leaf through it.

Reaching the chapter labeled #14, Francine's eyebrows rose and her eyes began to move very quickly over the print. She was so engrossed in her reading that she completely forgot her coffee.

By the time she remembered it, it was as cold as the water in Erik's lake…

_

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Please review! Please!_


	8. Chapter 8

**Alright, finally a long chapter! Thanks so much for the reviews, I tried to reply to you all, but for some reason it wouldn't work. hmm. Anyways, on with the story!

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Chapter 8

No dreams within her heart,

But dreams of love!

No thoughts within her head,

But thoughts of joy!

Christine felt that these words were hollow. _The only thoughts in my head right now are of confusion_. _At least rehearsal is almost over, and I can go see if_—now her mind interrupted itself. _Erik?_! Christine shook her head slightly. He was a puzzle. Too much work. _To travel through _time_ with someone, and still feel awkward and uncomfortable around that person! _Christine sighed. _Sure, I still hardly know him. But I _feel_ like I've known him for ages! _She set her mouth stubbornly, and began to sing once again.

The staircase creaked slightly as Christine stepped up it. Her legs felt like lead. Only two more dress rehearsals until the first performance! Why was that fact so unnerving?

Along with her new memories, Christine had been blessed with the knowledge of each scene, line and song upon entering this other time, so she didn't have to worry about forgetting something. In fact, it seemed to her that performing the play would actually be easier then fixing whatever time had shown her.

She had now reached the end of the dimly lit staircase and entered into the "Silent Room", so called by the ballet rats for of the aura of power throughout it. Upon entering, there seemed to be a heady silence which made none want to speak.

The room had a large stained glass window of an angel in the far wall, which, at sunset, filled the entire room with little glittering specks of multi-colored light.

Christine stepped soundlessly towards the immense candelabra in the corner and kneeled in front of it. She had finally compromised with herself and decided that instead of going to find Erik, and instead of hiding from him in her dormitory, she would come up here, to this Silent Room, in hopes of not having her thoughts interrupted.

In this haze of dust motes and fragments of light sat Erik, on a wooden stool directly behind Christine. Deep in thought, she had not noticed him, and now he gazed wistfully at the upturned face before him. Christine sat facing the window, her eyes closed, the setting sun bathing her features in soft yellow light and creating a white halo on her curls.

Erik did not dare move. His grip on the stool was painfully tight. He had not wanted it to happed like this, had intended to speak to her as she entered the room.

Now there was a maze of emotions rising up in Erik, and he wanted to beat them down but couldn't. The first were quite east to understand, confusion, fear, and so on, but as Erik traveled through the maze he became lost.

There were emotions there he didn't know he was capable of feeling… and didn't want to feel, especially when caused by this innocent face in front of him.

And then there were suspicions, which deep down Erik knew to be more than suspicions. One, which was starting to torment Erik much more often, was in reference to being thrust aback in time. There must be a reason for it! Erik felt he had to fix something, but what was it?

And why was it Erik who was thrust back into time? Surely there had to be a reason for that! It could've been anyone! Why him? Erik's suspicion on that was a bit more complicated. _For example_, he reasoned with himself, _how am I able to remember all these things so suddenly? They couldn't have happened to someone else, they happened to me! _

_And… and… if I somehow replaced the Phantom that used to be here when I switched times, then where is that Erik? Unless … _Erik's mind began to work furiously_. Unless I am that Erik. But how could I live in the 1800s and 2000s at the same time?_

The ending of the maze had now become clear to Erik. He shook his head to clear it, realized that his eyes were still tightly shut, and blinked them several times.

The Silent Room had now become dark, and only the moon shining through the window allowed Erik to see Christine lying slumped on the floor, sound asleep. The moonlight glittered on her Aminta costume, and Erik thought vaguely that he'd better not be falling in love with her, better not be repeating time. He hopped stiffly off the stool and gingerly shook Christine awake. She blinked sleepily, her eyes staring at the ceiling above her, and then coming to rest on Erik. When this happened, she sat straight up and became very stiff.

Erik then realized his hand was still resting on Christine's bare shoulder, and he scooted away from her awkwardly. He opened his mouth, shut it, and then cleared his throat.

"I have figured out why we're here," Erik said slowly, cautiously. Christine nodded, her eyes jumping from where his hand had touched her shoulder to focus on him curiously.

Erik cleared his throat again. "Did you suddenly remember… another life—when you got transported back here, to 1863?" Again Christine nodded, this time more thoughtfully.

"I thought it was because I had simply replaced the Erik that was here before me. But now I know that doesn't make sense! I couldn't have someone else's memories!

"And so I've realized that I must be the Erik from before! So I really am the Phantom! And you the Christine Daae!" Christine began to open her mouth, but Erik silenced her with a wave of his hand. "No, listen! Something must've caused us to change times, and I think it's because we have to change something while we're here!" At this Christine shifted uncomfortably.

"And so we've been living in two time periods- and we've been able to because-" Erik said excitedly "-Because- and I know this is crazy- but I believe that our souls were split! I mean, the me in 1863 must've had half and the me in 2006 half!"

Christine made a noise of disbelief. "Your soul can't be cut in half!" She scoffed. "You'd die!"

Erik shook his head. "Can you ever remember a feeling of wholeness? As if you were finally all in one place? Maybe time slowed down for you right then?"

Christine stared at the floor between them, her eyebrows lowered. She licked her lips, and then began to chew on her lower one. Slowly the disbelief in her expression changed to surprise as she nodded slowly. "Ye--es…" she paused. "With music, I felt…" she sucked in her breath. "I felt as though a part of me was filled- with- with something, out of control, bursting with…" her voice dropped to a whisper. "I felt complete."

Erik nodded, wordlessly showing he understood what she meant. "Your souls had to be linked together by something… Music is what linked them through time." Erik studied Christine's face. She looked incredulous, surprised, and maybe… disappointed, all at once. His eyes finally came to rest on hers.

Christine could feel a sort of pulling on her, and like magnets, her eyes drifted to his. A little jolt shot through her at the intensity of his gaze. The moonlight cast a shadow over the lower part of his face, so that his white mask and amber eyes glowed.

The expression on Erik's face was still excited from all he had just explained, and Christine felt herself falling into those pools of amber, which for once were open and readable. She felt herself leaning into him.


	9. Chapter 9

**Alright, I'm posting the next chapter cos I'm bored. Here goes.

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****Chapter 9**

Erik's face suddenly closed, and he leapt to his feet. Christine stared up at him, surprised, as he ran his hands through his hair. In one fluid movement, she stood up, not moving from the same place she had sat in. She could feel his breath blowing gently against her forehead.

Once again, Christine could feel that melting sensation, and imagined how her head would feel, resting against his chest. There was something very intoxicating about being this close to Erik, and Christine felt the ability to think clearly fly out the window.

Her head was beginning to get sort of heavy when she felt her chin being roughly grabbed and lifted to meet Erik's. Christine gave a little gasp at the feeling of his skin meeting hers.

His eyes, now ice chips of amber, bored into hers. "Do you know what this means!" He began laboriously, his lips brushing hers in an almost-kiss as he spoke. "Do you understand, that since I am now the Phantom, you are to fear me!"

Christine stared in to anger and disappointment, the only visible emotions in Erik's eyes. Her ability to think had come back, but she found that now she was thinking too much. "Erik—" she began, trying to pull her face away from his, but he refused to let go.

"Erik," she said desperately. "You said you thought we needed to change something! Let it be your behavior, then!"

Erik blinked, and Christine could tell she had hit something. He made as if to let go of her chin, and then suddenly gripped it tighter, pulling her even closer to him.

Christine's eyes had drifted to his lips, and now she cautiously moved them up to meet his eyes, not expecting to see the sadness there.

"Oh, Christine…" he sighed. "Don't you see? We've been brought back here only for me to be betrayed and left behind again."

Christine said slowly, "You can't be betrayed if you're not in love with me… You're not, are you?"

"How casually you ask that!" Erik murmured, evading her question. He began to absently run his thumb back and forth over her jaw.

Christine felt her eyes beginning to close. She was so tired…

It was when she felt a kiss placed on her hair and a masked cheek resting upon her curls that her eyes jerked open. "Urgh!" She pushed herself away from him and fled, stumbling down the stairs to her dormitory, more afraid of her own feelings than anything else.

Erik sagged against the wall behind him. His lips still tingled from where they had brushed Christine's hair. _There is something most _definitely_ wrong about being back in this time_, Erik thought, frustrated. _Because dammit, if I'm not falling in love with her!_

Darkness faded into the Silent Room as a cloud floated across the moon. Standing solitary in this darkness, Erik began to feel a sort of linking, as his past and present self began to join. Two halves of a soul became one, and with them came the winds of time, swirling around Erik and whispering to him, only to leave their imprint and fade away.


	10. Chapter 10

**... And the next chapter...

* * *

****Chapter 10**

Christine sat straight up in her bed, whacking her head on the headboard. She gave a little groan and carefully sunk down onto her pillows again, listening to the light tapping on the roof above. Christine had always hated the rain, and now she blamed it for her sore head. _It must've been what woke me up,_ she thought grumpily. _And now I'm wide awake and can't go back to sleep. Great_.

Wrapping the quilt around her shoulders, Christine hopped out of her bed and stood beside the window. _The view from here is at once so familiar and so odd_, she thought, and blinked back tears. "What if I never leave her?" She whispered. "What if I'm stuck in my past forever? I have absolutely no control here; I'm just doomed to repeat things again and again." There was a small prodding at the back of Christine's mind at that thought, but she ignored it. She was actually having quite a nice time pitying herself, and didn't want to be interrupted.

Unfortunately, interruptions happen.

Christine was just beginning to bemoan her Aminta costume when she heard a creak on the floorboards behind her.

Suspiciously, she turned around to see a dark shape sitting on the edge of her bed. "Erik!"

"Christine."

Christine felt herself blushing slightly as she remembered how her chin felt in his long-fingered hand. She struggled to push this thought from her mind. "Erik… what are you doing her? I could've been sound asleep! Or something… like that…" she finished lamely.

"Well, lucky for me, you weren't." Erik sounded thoughtful. "Do you know, I've got it."

Christine felt overwhelmingly puzzled. One minute, Erik could be thoughtful and excited, and very nearly normal, the next he could be angry and sad. _He's what my father would call a 'Passionate person'_ she thought wryly. _But my father is dead!_ Christine narrowed her eyes. _Well, one is, on isn't, I suppose._

Meanwhile, Erik had stood up from the bed and began to rock back and forth on his heels, gazing out the window beside Christine. "It's a very strange feeling," he said, startling her from her thoughts.

"What is?" she asked absently. The room suddenly seemed very dark.

"Having all of you soul. It's like I have suddenly changed into a different person, and I can't change back."

Christine gazed up at Erik, a look of surprise on her face. "So your theory was right then! Well, uh… Congratulations."

He blinked, and both returned to staring out the window.

Erik gazed wonderingly out at the rain blurred skyline of Paris, 1863. He tentatively reached out and covered Christine's slender had in his.

Erik stared wistfully at that small hand for a long time. A burning feeling was growing in his throat.

"Christine- Do you-"

"Hmm?" she said sleepily.

"Love me?" He added silently, desperately, then turned on his heel and left the room.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Erik splashed his way across the lake in the gondola to his "lair". He had taken to calling it that, as "apartment" reminded him of a small cramped space, and "home"…. Well, together Erik and his aunt had traveled a lot, and Erik wasn't sure if he had ever had a home.

Angry ripples circled from the pole as Erik stabbed it through the water. Upon reaching the shore, he leapt out and stomped across to the swan bed he knew was meant for Christine.

Slowly he sunk down on the edge of the bed, his head bowed in thought. He had done exactly what he was afraid, somewhere in the back of his mind, he would do.

Except… Why! Why him? And why her? _And why everything_, Erik thought with a frustrated sigh. Erik began to mindlessly hum a melody while he thought, his brain clicking into furious gear for the second time in the past 6 hours.

"I know I have begun to love her…" his fingers absently tracing the pattern of the feathers on the swan bed. "But maybe it's only a – a side effect, from being back here and-" His mind reeled, abruptly casting out any ideas that Christine could only be a passing fixation.

"No," he gasped aloud, and the shock of what he had just realized sent him falling onto the bed. "I have fallen in love with her, and it won't matter what time we're in…" Erik stared hopelessly up at the ceiling, his knees hanging over the edge of the bed, until he fell asleep.

* * *

Christine joyously woke that morning to realize it was a Sunday. The end of her first week in 1863! The old clock on the wall said 8:30. The outside corridor was silent, as was the roof above, and Christine drank in the quiet.

She quickly dressed and let her memory guide her out the dormitory, around the creaky floorboards, and into the rain-caused fog.

Christine took in a big breath of air, reveling in the freedom of being outdoors. Where to go first? Hunger gnawed at her stomach, and she headed towards the bakery.

Two croissants and a very milky coffee later, Christine was beginning to feel overwhelmed by all the familiar newness she was surrounded by, and decided she wanted to be alone. Without thinking, she began moving in the direction of the cemetery.

Upon reaching the solemn rows of gravestones and monuments, Christine gave an unconscious sigh of relief. Even as a child, she had found walking through a cemetery comforting, and more interesting than being in a park or playground. She would read the inscriptions on the stones and wonder what that person had been like, whose lives they had affected.

Christine let her feet carry her to where she knew her father's tomb would be, and she sank down on the steps in front of it.

By now, Christine had allowed her other memory to take over, and the rush of sadness she felt threatened to overcome her. Maybe, in some part, Christine felt surprise at feeling such strong emotions as these, but because her two memories had not yet combined, at any one moment she would either have one or the other.

Small teardrops trickled down her cheeks as she stared at the cold and unfeeling tomb which held her once warm and loving father.


	12. Chapter 12

**Just thought I'd leave you on a dramatic note...

* * *

****Chapter 12**

Erik felt a thrill shoot through him at the sound of the door opening. He had finally decided that— well, actually, he hadn't really decided anything. And yet there he stood, tensely in the hallway behind Christine's mirror.

Breathlessly he watched her come in and stare dejectedly out the window. Erik felt her own sadness sweep into him, and desperate to comfort her, he began to sing.

Christine's head jerked up and towards the mirror. Erik watched as her expression changed from one of fear and surprise to one of amazement. Entranced, she slowly stepped forwards and brushed her fingertips over the surface of the mirror.

Erik felt his mouth growing dry but continued to sing. Unthinkingly, he slid the mirror apart from the wet stone, and with a swirl of his cape, Christine was in his arms.

She gazed up at him, her eyes wide and incredulous. Erik felt his voice falter and fade to silence, unable to hear anything over the uneven music of the water droplets that fell from the ceiling above. One fell on Christine's cheek and tentatively Erik wiped it away. At his touch, Christine's eyes fell shut, her face still turned up to his.

How long they stood that way, neither knew. When Christine's eyes opened, it was to see a look of such pain and longing in Erik's that she shrank away, in fear that the same emotions would be shown in hers. Erik's hands immediately lifted from her waist, and he took a step backwards.

Christine looked bewildered as she peeked back through her mirror. Erik hated that look. He hated that he held this power over her, this power of music, while she held him with such a stronger power of love. In the depths of his soul, he knew he was jealous of the power she had, and wanted to hold her with the same control.

Erik let his frustration and hurt take over. Wordlessly, his hand shot out and gripped Christine's arm. Still unspeaking, he pulled her after him down the hallway towards his lair. Christine struggled and protested, but upon reaching the gondola her cries died out. She had noticed the grimly satisfied air about Erik and it scared her.

Once seated in the gondola, Erik's grip loosed. Stiffly he stood looking down at her, his eyes emotionless and glittering in the dim light. Christine felt as if she had been stabbed and the pain was unbearable.

"Why?" She whispered, mostly to herself.

The gondola bumped up against the shore and Erik sneered. Roughly he grabbed Christine's arm and pulled her from the boat. His eyes seemed to glint and flash, like the candles reflected in the lake. Christine felt the cold lake water lap against her thin shoes and begin to soak through.

Erik's eyes met Christine's for a moment, and the angry light in them seemed to flicker slightly. Christine felt a faint glimmer of hope.

Resolutely, Erik turned his face away and pulled Christine after him towards the swan bed. Recognizing where they were headed, Christine's glimmer of hope faded to be replaced with a flurry of panic that rose in her throat.

"Erik! What is _wrong_ with you! What-"

Erik by now had reached the swan bed. Swiftly whirling to face her, he roared furiously, "_Oh, would you shut up_!" and forcibly lifted, then dropped Christine onto the bed.

Christine felt incredibly small as Erik leered down at her. She shrank against the pillows behind her, her voice trapped behind the lump in her throat. She found herself trying to look anywhere but Erik's calculating eyes.

Erik watched as Christine's panicked eyes darted this way and that, and it only served to make him more angry. "What did you expect?" a little voice in the back of his head prodded him. A much stronger voice boomed, "How dare she not meet my eyes! How dare she refuse to acknowledge this cold, hard proof that I don't love her! And never will!"

Christine had finally fixed her eyes on a vase in the corner when she heard a thunderous sound above her. Cautiously, she glanced in the direction of that powerful sound.

It was Erik, letting his voice fill and darken the room, gaining power on all thoughts and emotions and making them match his own. Christine felt claustrophobic as wave after wave of anger and disappointment crashed over her. She wanted to hide but couldn't, forced to meet these emotions. She pressed a pillow frantically over her ears but Erik ripped it away.

Christine's defenses began to waver and grow weak. She accidentally let some of Erik's fury seep through and it was because of this that she grew strong enough to leap up and scream angrily, "Enough!" Desperate now, she grabbed his shoulders and shook his tense form, all the while shouting, "Enough! Stop! Enough…" her voice faded to sobs as Erik's voice trailed away, and with it, her borrowed courage.

Erik stared down at the listless shoulders of Christine. He did not feel the control he thought he should have. He actually felt horrified. Christine was right. What was wrong with him?

"Oh god, Christine," he gasped and pressed her into his chest, willing her shaking shoulders to calm. "I'm sorry… I'm so, so, sorry… I'm sorry…"

Christine's pale face gazed up at him. Even her lips were pale. Erik found that thought growing stronger and louder in his brain, and desperate to quiet it, he leaned down and brushed his lips over hers. Erik felt the shock of that small kiss jolt through her body, and through his.

"I love you," he whispered desperately into her ear. "I love you…"


	13. Chapter 13

**Thanks for the reviews! I want to get caught up with all I've written (which is up to Chapter 15) and so I'll post 'em all tonight. Then things will slow down again...

* * *

**

Chapter 13

Christine couldn't move. Erik's eyes were locked on hers, and his expression was pleading. His eyes were overflowing with love and longing, and begging hopelessly that Christine would feel the same way.

Instead, Erik's "I love you" was echoing again and again in her mind, and combined with it was the raucous evil thunder of his voice. The two did not mix together well, and Christine though she was going deaf. She never wanted to hear, feel, or see anything again, and her stomach churned as her eyes flickered about the room, trying to be blind.

Erik felt his lips stiffening. They had been tingling from that kiss only seconds before, and now Erik knew that that kiss had not helped but made things worse. Ironically, that had been the exact opposite reason why he had kissed her in the first place.

Why had he said he loved her? Christine thought, bewildered. _If he loved me, he would not have… have…_ But what was it, exactly, Erik had done? _It was his voice_, Christine thought with a shiver. _His voice…_

Christine's senses seemed to be slow to catch up with recent events, mostly because she was afraid to use them. Or maybe she had simply not recognized that Erik had kissed her because she didn't want to.

But now she had no choice, and brought her hand to her lips and finally focused her eyes on Erik in surprise. Erik stared pleadingly back at her, and the hopelessness in his eyes combined with the stiffness in his mouth gave him a truly resigned expression. He held no hope of Christine loving him in return. She would hate him. Time would repeat itself, just as he knew it would.

Christine felt the fear coiling in her stomach turn to pity. She hadn't wanted to consider what Erik's kiss meant, and now she didn't have to. Erik simply didn't know what he was talking about. How could he know what love was? He, whose own mother had never loved him? Christine blinked uncomfortably. Why did that thought ring with an untrue taste to it?

The simple fact was, Erik scared her. Christine liked to think of herself as passionate and mysterious, but the truth was that the only passion she had ever known was in music, and the unknown scared her. Erik was full of both of these things, and that scared Christine even more.

And perhaps the fact that scared her most was that nagging question, what if Erik really did love her? What if somehow he knew what love was, and she didn't?

In a deep corner of her mind, Christine had noticed these things and respected them as facts. She did not know how to acknowledge them, though. She knew she had problems becoming… close to people. She had never had a best friend, and never had a boyfriend that lasted over a month. At any hint that someone might be beginning to know her too well, had become too familiar, Christine would push them away, avoid them.

And so how could Erik have the _nerve_ to say he loved her, when she had done such a good job of staying distant from him?

Christine felt a brief sadness cross her as she thought. How could Erik, who had experienced so much that was without love, know what love was, and Christine, who had only known a life of love, still have no knowledge of it at all? But she bit her lip and blinked her eyes and silently cast out that idea. Erik didn't know what he was talking about. He couldn't.

Erik watched a flutter of emotions cross Christine's face, and for the 100th time wondered what she was thinking about. He could see resignation etched in her eyes, too, and wondered where it came from. Finally she refocused on his face, and smiled tremulously.

Hope, that awful emotion that disguises everything around you, filled Erik at that smile.

"Christine…" he didn't dare touch her. "Christine, I love you. I love you."

Staring into his hopeful eyes, Christine's courage left. What could she possibly say? Christine felt all her confusion and fear crash into her again and was so overwhelmed by her emotions, she could only think one thing: Run. Get as far away from this awful place, this awful time, as you can.

But she kept her self control and gazed back into Erik's eyes, and finding herself unable to speak, brushed her fingers over Erik's hand, hoping the emotions in her eyes spoke for her. Then she turned and leapt into the gondola and pushed off from the shore. With every stroke away, she felt her mind clear. It was when she reached the middle of the lake that she slowed her pace and glanced behind her.

Erik stood at the water's edge, his eyes blazing and face set. For he had read the emotions in Christine's eyes just as she wanted him to, but he had also read the emotions she didn't want him to see. There was sadness in her eyes, and disappointment, and Erik could only guess what had caused it. But this guessing only entranced him more.

Erik decided that if it was the last thing he did, he would make Christine love him back. And he would know what caused that sadness in her eyes.

Christine shivered at his intense gaze and turned around, moving away once more across the lake. The gondola seemed to somehow move quicker across the lake, as if powered by some unseen wind. This odd wind swept into Christine, into her very soul, and filled it. Two halves of a soul, two times, two deaths, two loves, became one, melded together eternally by time.

Time swept around Christine and hissed to her, "I told you to fix those actions you just committed… I told you to fix them."


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

Erik stared across the lake, a sort of heaviness filling him that made him not want to move. He watched Christine's mist shrouded figure glide across the water like a ghost, and vaguely registered that he had no way of getting his gondola back.

His eyes followed Christine until she disappeared up the hallway, and finally he looked down to see he had been digging his fingernails into his hand until it bled. Erik stared unseeingly at his bloody nails.

Why in the world had he told Christine he loved her? What had he been thinking? Especially after the way he had acted towards her. He had abused that power of music he held over her, and now she would hate him. She would never love him. Erik let his hopelessness and pain flood his mind, and felt as if it were ripping up his insides.

He raked his fingernails down his face, as if by creating physical pain he could stop the pain inside of him. He felt his mask fall to the ground and a sort of wetness on his face which was caused by the blood on his hands.

_What was I thinking?_ Erik stared incomprehensively at his bloody hand_. I can't make Christine love me. I won't ever know why she looked at me with that horrible sadness in her eyes. And when we return from this time, if we ever do, we will just go on through life as if nothing ever happened, two strangers with a strange experience._

Erik stared at his bleeding hand in hopelessness and growing contempt. Christine would never completely know how she had hurt him. And shouldn't she? How come she could escape from all the pain she had caused without even a scrape? Erik's sadness turned to anger.

Never did he consider that Christine could be feeling any pain herself. Never did he think that anger fueled by sadness and disappointment could be a very dangerous emotion indeed.

Erik stepped down to the lake's edge and splashed water on his face, to remove the blood, and gingerly washed his hand. Feeling suddenly tired, he flung himself down into a large chair by his organ and fell asleep.

Christine was standing in front of Erik, holding his hand in hers. She lifted it to her lips and held it there, a sort of wistful sadness in her eyes, and Erik felt as though he would burst. Why was she doing this? Her lips seemed to brand his knuckles, and Erik thought, _Oh God, let her release me from this torture_. And yet he prayed at the same time that she would never let go.

Suddenly, Raoul appeared at Christine's side. Erik was startled. Where had he come from? For a moment, Erik felt crushed, but then that awful hope struck again. What did Raoul matter? He had not traveled through time with Erik and Christine. He didn't share their bond of time, of music. He didn't matter at all.

And so why was Christine looking back and forth at both with a confused look on her face? Erik reached out for Christine and meant to tell her how Raoul didn't matter; he didn't love her like he, Erik, did…

* * *

Erik woke up with a jolt. He had a crick in his neck from sleeping sitting up, and his white mask leered up at him from the floor where he had left it. Erik felt disoriented and claustrophobic, and as though he still were reaching out for Christine.

Stiffly standing, Erik looked around for his gondola, and then remembered that Christine had selfishly left it at the other side of the lake. He curled his hands into fists at his sides, and then jumped at the pressure on his newly-scabbed cut. Erik gazed down at the source of his pain, frustration and grief building in him until it bubbled up his throat and soared out of his mouth in one great echoing cry.

* * *

Christine sat straight up in her bed. She had heard that cry, for it had rolled across the lake and up the hallway and into her room. Christine nervously began to dress. Was Erik planning on torturing her with is voice even still? Luckily, the next-to-last dress rehearsal had been set for the next day, and Christine had the entire day today to relax. She planned to spend this relaxing away from Erik.

Christine slowly ran her hands down her face, as if searching for a difference. She had all of her soul now, and yet she didn't feel any completion. She had expected to be a different person, one who knew exactly who they were and what they were doing, and was disappointed that she still felt confused, that she didn't have any more answers than she did two days before.

Why were her only thoughts focusing on Erik and that kiss? Christine had replayed it so many times in her brain that now it seemed to have fused with the dark blanket of memory that way Erik singing to her, as if Erik's kiss had rescued her from that torturing menace of a voice. Christine couldn't even think of what time had meant her to fix. Erik's lips descended over hers again… And again… And again…

* * *

Erik bent and picked up his mask and crushed it on his face. Now he was not only fueled by anger, but hunger, too, and the cause of both was Christine. Erik slowly shed his shirt and took off his mask and held it in his hand, and waded into the freezing lake water. He grit his teeth and waded deeper. Damn her! This was all her fault. If anything, she should be the one swimming across a freezing lake to get a stupid gondola. Suddenly, Erik had a vibrant mental picture of Christine with her clothes soaking, swimming across his lake. He blinked rapidly and cursed, got a mouthful of water, and felt even angrier at Christine.

Finally, Erik reached the other side and leapt out of the water, jumping up and down and rubbing himself, beginning to get warm again. His chest and arms felt numb, his legs soaked, but he squared his shoulders, crammed his mask back on his face, and started up the hallway to Christine's room. She deserved to know all the trouble she had caused. Erik thought with glee that him being shirtless would probably make Christine uncomfortable, and decided that it would be nice to be the calm one for a change.

* * *

Christine watched in surprise as Erik flung open the mirror and stepped into her dormitory. He stood there, in front of the open mirror, dripping wet, a sort of challenge in his eyes. Christine felt herself beginning to blush. A small water droplet trickled down Erik's strong, bare chest and glittered in the faint light. She tried not to watch its progress.

Erik noticed Christine's awkwardness with satisfaction. "This is all your fault," he said pleasantly, and took a step towards her. She took a step backwards. "Shouldn't you be asking me what your fault is, not backing away?" Erik said, and smiled and took another step towards her. She took another step backwards.

"Fine. Don't ask. I'm going to tell you anyways." Another step forwards. Christine by now was backed against the wall behind her, the look on her face a cross between relief and fear.

"In your rush to get away from me yesterday…" Erik grinned and took another step forwards. "You took _my_ gondola across _my_ lake and forgot to bring it back. I had to _swim_ across the entire _freezing_ lake to get my _damn_ gondola back because of _you_." Erik took another step forwards and put one hand on either side of the wall beside Christine, so that she was trapped between his body and the wall. He smiled wickedly down at her. "So… How's _your_ day been going?"

Christine tried to dart away from Erik and underneath his arm, but that only made him move in closer to her. His chest brushed against hers and Christine suddenly felt short of breath. She blushed even more. "You're blushing," Erik said sarcastically. He moved in even closer, and she could feel his wet pant leg resting against hers.

Suddenly panicked, Christine put her hands on Erik's chest and pushed hard. He took a step away from her and now it was his turn to look surprised. Christine then realized her hands were still resting against Erik's chest, and pulled them away as if burned. "Stop," she said faintly.

"Stop what!" replied Erik. He grinned again. "I wasn't _doing_ anything. You're the one who decided to steal my gondola and leave me stranded." He stepped up close to her again, and flirtatiously ran his finger down her arm. "Did you _want_ me stranded…?" he said huskily.

Christine felt weak. Every time Erik touched her, she felt like she had received an electric shock. "Why are you doing this?" she choked out. "Do you… do you have different _personalities_ or something!" Erik became stiff. Christine felt a bit more confident. "I mean, I'm sorry I took your gondola, that wasn't very… nice of me… but you know, you… um…"

"I _what!_" Erik snapped.

"Well… you… You kissed me! And you said you loved me! I—"

Erik felt a sort of wrenching inside him. It had been nice, pretending he didn't care what Christine thought. But now he knew that he cared very much about what Christine thought. And that was obviously that he was a fool. She didn't believe him.

"You don't think I meant it," he said flatly.

"Well, yes, I- You- And now you're _flirting_ with me…." Christine stared up at him.

"That bothers you? I, for one, rather liked it, but…" Erik's voice grew harsh. "But if you'd like me to go back to kissing you, I gladly will. In fact…" He looked down at her upturned face and wrapped his arms around her. Christine struggled against him but Erik pulled her closer. He bent his head down and forced his lips down over hers. She gave a little squeak and slowly sunk into him, her hands still resting against his chest. Erik registered for a moment that Christine wasn't pulling away from him, and then was hit by such a wave of longing that he couldn't think. He felt Christine's hands move up his back and pushed her against the wall, his lips devouring hers.

Christine couldn't move. Erik was a very good kisser; a part of her mind registered dreamily. Aloud, she sighed, "This must be what time wanted me to fix…"

"What?" Erik murmured, pressing kisses over Christine's eyelids.

"Nothing…" she sighed, and rested her head on Erik's shoulder while he kissed her hair. _But maybe,_ she thought, _Maybe it was everything._


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

Erik stared absentmindedly down at Christine's golden curls. They were disheveled and messy, and he found himself smiling. His own happiness and… _relief_ were swelling in him, and he wanted to laugh and dance with the joy of it all. Christine must love him! He felt her nestle her face deeper into the crook of his neck, and caught his breath.

A little awful voice was hissing to Christine, and it asked her if this was what she wanted, if by returning Erik's kisses and caresses and acting as though she loved him in return she would be bringing pain upon herself. Christine closed her eyes and tried to hide from all these thoughts by burying her head deeper into Erik's chest.

She felt Erik's arm wrap around her shoulders tighter, and for a moment, she was safe, she didn't doubt her own emotions, she knew what she had and she wanted nothing more than that, but the moment passed, and Christine had the strange sensation that she was risking her very soul by reaching out to Erik and admitting that she might care for him.

Erik breathed into Christine's ear and she found herself recoiling. He didn't seem to notice, though, and sighed and whispered, "You love me," and tilted her face up to his, leaning into her lips. Christine stared at his closed eyes and felt tears grow in hers. She backed away from his kiss and turned to face the door behind her.

Two yellow eyes opened and fixed on Christine's back. They watched as her head bowed and she seemed to murmur something. These eyes didn't show any emotion, even though the brain behind them was working furiously. A small prickling was growing behind these eyes, distorting the images in front of them, and the moisture growing there was making the amber color glitter and glow and bore into the back they were fixed on.

Christine's shoulders trembled and she wondered if she was deliberately punishing herself. By telling herself that Erik would only hurt her, that he didn't really love her, she was really hurting herself.

Suddenly, two long-fingered hands were on her waist and Christine felt herself pulled against a warm bare chest. A small jolt shot through her and she tried to pull away, to tell Erik that she was afraid of him, but he covered her eyes with his scabbed hand and pulled her head to rest on his shoulder. Christine blinked against his palm and tried to pull it away, but Erik pinned her wrists to her sides with his other arm. She felt him lean into her ear and hiss to be quiet, and her fear kept her silent.

They stayed that way until Christine could no longer be stiff and had no choice but to sag against his chest. "That's better," Erik breathed. He ran the hand that had been holding down her wrists up to her elbows and back down again, unconsciously enjoying the way she shivered underneath his palm. Finally, Erik stopped his movement and decided it was time to speak.

"You're afraid of me," he stated plainly. "Why are you afraid of me?" He felt Christine's eyelashes brush against his hand as she blinked. "Christine… Christine, know that I love you. I will always love you."

All in one moment, Christine realized that she had known all along that Erik would love her, did love her. She realized that she had been afraid that she wouldn't be able to love him, that she would push him away like she did everyone else. She realized that she was afraid of herself.

She opened her eyes and stared up at the darkness above her. "I know that," she whispered. Erik's magical words seemed to echo in her head, and she wondered if he would allow her to grow distant from him, to turn him away.

Erik's hand slipped beneath her knees and he lifted her up and began walking. "Trust me," he said simply as Christine opened her mouth to protest. He started down the hallway and towards his lair. "Christine," he began conversationally, seeming to relish the taste of her name on his lips, "I want to know if you love me. I cannot wait for your answer forever…"

"I want to know why you're afraid of me. I want to know why you refused to answer me when I asked you if you loved me, but kissed me later. I want you to make up your mind." By now he had reached the gondola and began to cross the lake. Finally reaching the shore, he set Christine on her feet and took his hand off her eyes. She blinked in the sudden light. "Alright," Erik said, collapsing on his organ bench and shamelessly studying the expression on Christine's face. "Christine, do you love me?"

Christine looked hopelessly around at the candles surrounding her. She felt trapped by Erik's calculating stare, and spoke rapidly. "How can I love you when—when I don't—I don't--"

Erik struck a few chords on his organ. He was enjoying this, oddly enough. "You don't what?" He rippled his hand up the organ keys, and covertly watched Christine shiver behind him at the sound of the notes. She unintentionally moved closer to him, closer to the music.

Preoccupied, Christine forgot to feel nervous and spoke carelessly. "I don't know what love is… How can I, how can you?"

Pounding across the keys, Erik decided he did _not_ like this game anymore. "You're a coward," he spat. "You refuse to answer my questions about yourself; you try to turn everything back on me. You know what I think?" More chords resounded from underneath Erik's fingers. "You know what love is just as much as I do. You know that you've never felt this way with anyone else, and that's what scares you."

Christine stopped moving towards the organ and stared down at Erik's stiff profile. She realized that he still wasn't wearing a shirt and vaguely wondered if he was cold, and then decided that she didn't care. "I am not a coward," she said haughtily.

He scoffed. "You are. I want to know if you love me. You know the answer to that question. You're just too afraid to say it." Erik stood up from the organ and moved towards where he had left his shirt, on the shore by the lake. Frustrated, Christine followed him.

"Fine. I'll answer your _stupid_ question." Erik jerked his head up and fixed Christine with an unwavering gaze. "I _don't_ love you and I _never_ will! How could I! After all you've done to me! I don't even _like_ you! I _hate_ you!"

For a moment, Erik looked stricken. Then anger and disbelief clouded his features and he began to smile maliciously. "You didn't hate me that much when I was in your room," he said slyly, and bent to pick up his shirt. "In fact, as I recall, I didn't even have _this_--" he wiggled the shirt in the air, "--on, and you really didn't seem to mind at all. You seemed to greatly appreciate that fact, actually."

Christine blushed furiously and, in one quick movement, snatched Erik's shirt out of his hand and threw it into the water. She glared at him triumphantly. He began to laugh. "You must really hate that shirt," he said, and swaggered towards her. "Well, it's gone now! You've got me how you want me!" He opened his arms wide and stepped forwards to envelope Christine in them. She struggled against him as he tried to cover her lips with his own.

Erik missed her mouth completely and a kiss landed on Christine's ear. "Where did you learn to kiss, the circus?" she asked snidely as she struggled in his arms.

"_No_," he replied, just as snidely.

"You're not acting very much like someone who _loves_ me," Christine huffed.

Erik paused in his struggle and looked earnestly down into her flushed face. "I do love you," he said, and seized his chance, grabbing Christine's chin and firmly bringing his mouth down on top of her own.

She made a muffled little noise and then sighed and leaned into Erik. For a moment, the body in his arms was willing, and Erik tightened his arms around Christine. He felt the lake water lapping against his bare feet but didn't care. And then Christine seemed to realize what she was doing and she jerked in his arms, struggling against him once more. Erik refused to remove his lips from her own, and slid his hand from her chin around to the back of her head, her lips now smashed against his own. Christine pushed against Erik as hard as she could, and it was in that second that she lost her balance.

Seemingly in slow motion, she fell backwards into the lake behind her, pulling Erik after her, his lips still connected to her own. With a loud splash, both fell into the waist deep water.

Christine slowly sat up, spluttering. Her head had even gone underwater in the fall, and she was completely soaked. Right next to her, Erik's dark head popped up from underneath the water. He had his back to her, and Christine watched him surreptitiously put his mask back on. She felt faintly uncomfortable, and wondered what he would do if she took his mask off, but was distracted from that thought as he turned around and leered at her, and then began to laugh. Rolling over in the water, he reached out and tried to pull her towards him, still grinning.

"You're not still mad at me?" he asked mock-seriously when she pulled away. Christine just narrowed her eyes at him. She began to stand up, and then looked down at her dress to see that it was clinging to her in a very embarrassing way. Christine silently damned 19th Century dresses.

"Go get me a towel," she ordered Erik, trying not to blush.

Erik stood up and began wading out of the lake. "Get one yourself."

"I can't!" Christine cried desperately.

"Why not?" Erik demanded. "Did you—Oh…!" He began to laugh. "You're definitely going to have to get one yourself."

"Erik!" He just smiled sweetly at her. Christine reflected that this was the most she had ever seen Erik smile. "Erik, please, I really can't! _Please!_"

"No." Erik walked off down a hallway and disappeared for a moment, and then came back carrying a towel. He wrapped it around his shoulders with a flourish and slowly sunk down onto the shore in front of Christine.

"You said you loved me!" Christine felt her teeth begin to chatter.

Erik yawned. "Don't even try that one on me. You hate me, remember?"

"Alright, I don't _hate_ you… I'm really getting very cold, please get me a towel!"

"Hmmm." Erik pretended to consider this idea. "What do I get out of it?"

Christine set her jaw. "Fine. I'll get the towel myself. Look the other way."

"Are you kidding? I don't think so," Erik grinned toothily.

With a last attempt at pride, Christine firmly crossed her arms over her chest and waded out of the lake. It was worse than she thought. With every step she took, the muslin dress clung to her legs and almost tripped her, so that she had to take very small steps. Upon passing Erik, he stood up and followed her.

"I have to show you where the towels are," he said in response to her disgusted look.

Finally reaching the dark hallway, Erik slipped ahead of her and came back holding a red towel. He held it to his chest. "You'll have to come and get it," he teased.

"Erik," Christine sighed. "I humored you. I got the stupid towel myself. Now would you please give it to me?"

He grinned and said nothing. Christine moved forwards to snatch it out of his hands, and for one brief instant her fingers brushed the cloth. The next moment, Erik was holding her hand in his, and staring in awe at her face. She blinked uncomfortably.

Incredibly slowly, Erik's other hand slid from the towel to Christine's waist. All the while watching her face, he pulled her closer to him, the towel forgotten and in a heap on the floor. Christine didn't dare move her eyes from his. Agonizingly, he rested his cheek against hers, and then pulled away, to gradually move towards her lips, and then stop right before meeting them. Christine leaned forwards and pressed her lips to Erik's. He sighed and wrapped both of his arms around her.

Briefly pulling away, Erik gazed fiercely into Christine's eyes. "Do you love me?" he whispered.

"I do," she replied, and the shock behind the truth of her answer showed on her face, and Erik believed her.

* * *

Pleeeeeeeez review!


	16. Chapter 16

**Thanks for the reviews! This story will be ending soon, just so you know. Here's the chapter.Please review!

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Chapter 16

Christine stared into the mirror in front of her. Today was finally the day of the last dress rehearsal. She felt vaguely nervous, and wondered what would happen after the performance of _Don Juan Triumphant_. Would she leave this time? Christine carefully studied her own reflection. Oddly, the idea of leaving 1863 frightened her. She felt more at home here than she had ever felt in her own time.

Two green eyes stared back at her from the mirror. Christine imagined these eyes turning amber, and then slowly slid open the mirror, to make sure she really _was_ imagining things.

She wasn't.

Erik stepped forwards and enveloped Christine in his arms, breathing into her hair. She registered that he was wearing a shirt again. There seemed to be a silence that hung in the air all around them, a smothering pressure of things unsaid. Christine kept hearing a hissing in her ears, and was trying to ignore it. Erik was hearing the same thing, only he could recognize the hissing as Time, time warning that there would always be either too much or too little.

Time is ethereal. It controls itself, and we are just figures, obeying the law of continuous, never-stopping time. What was once there, in that exact second, will never be there again. Time will continue to roll on, no matter how we try to capture and refine it. Time obeys no laws.

Christine heard a tapping on the door behind her, and wordlessly pulled away from Erik to answer it. Erik stared at her hand. Something was missing. What was it? The ring! Where was Christine's engagement ring? _But that's ridiculous,_ he thought. A 15-year-old having an engagement ring! But he knew she had it! He had remembered her wearing it, hadn't he?

Try as he could, Erik could not remember seeing Christine with that ring. Instead, the image was just painted in his mind, like something from a picture. Meanwhile, Christine was trying to explain something to Raoul, who was outside of her door.

"Yes, I _know_, Raoul, I'm coming to rehearsal! Just give me a minute!" Christine said impatiently, and made a move to shut the door.

Raoul stopped it with his hand. "Christine, are you alright? I haven't seen you in such a long time, and you seem--" Raoul's eyes suddenly widened. "He's in there, with you, isn't he?" He said in a stage whisper.

Christine felt a combination of annoyance and fear at how Raoul would react to Erik. She sensed Erik step up behind her and flapped her hand behind her back, trying to tell him to go away. Instead, he caught her hand and began tracing her ring finger with his hands. _What the hell was he doing? _

Raoul pushed open the door and stepped into the room. "What are you doing in here, Monsieur le _Phantom!_" he snarled. Christine felt ultimately worried and amused at the same time, and distractedly looked down at the finger Erik had been tracing. Her hand looked strangely empty. She stared at it as Raoul's raised voice and Erik's quiet, menacing one died out. Memories, or not memories, just still pictures of what was to come, swirled around Christine. Time was the breath that made the pictures revolve.

Christine watched as an image of Erik's hurt eyes at the masquerade spun into oblivion and disappeared. Next came a large picture of Christine and Raoul on a rooftop, which abruptly became blurry and was replaced with the close-up shot of an engagement ring. The engagement ring supposedly belonging on Christine's empty hand. The ring turned to dust as the familiar voice of Time rasped in Christine's ear, _"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust…What once was wrong… Now is lost."_

Blinking as the images disappeared, Christine was left with the distinct feeling that some of the memories she had acquired upon reaching this other time had been a bit more than memories. They had been Time's way of trying to right a wrong, visions of impending moments and the pain they would cause. Christine shook her head to clear it and suddenly understood what it was she_ had _needed to fix. She had needed to fix her relationship with Erik. She had needed to let go of the constant reminder of her father that was in Raoul, and had needed to learn that in the course of experiencing love, love like her father's, love like Erik's, love even like Raoul's, she could still have absolutely no idea of what love was.

Relief surged through her as she realized she had already fixed these things. In admitting to Erik that she loved him, she had fixed every single one. Expectantly, Christine gazed at the ceiling above her, as if time would just open a portal in the sky and whisk herself and Erik back to 2006. Sadly, nothing happened, and Christine was left with the sound of Erik's and Raoul's voices ringing in her ears.

"—and I'm telling you, _Phantom,_ that you're pathetic attempts to _kidnap--_" Raoul was saying.

Erik began to laugh maliciously, and opened his mouth to speak just as he saw Christine's cold look of frustration. Instead, he contented himself with simply laughing. Christine moved towards the two, and realized abruptly that Raoul was only a year older than herself. Somehow, this fact seemed oddly important. She suddenly felt as if she was acting out a mini version of the Phantom of the Opera. _Well, I am, aren't I!_ She thought wearily.

Raoul fell silent as Christine stepped towards Erik. He watched as she threaded her fingers through Erik's hand. He watched as they exchanged a look of the purest understanding he had ever seen, the understanding he had been striving to share with Christine, and felt jealous and dejected. But it was the kind of sadness that is temporary, and though is felt as keenly as if it will last eternally, is always accompanied by that small thought, _this won't last forever._

In a small voice, Raoul said, "You love him."

Christine nodded tentatively. Raoul turned away and towards the door, and then turned back around again. "I thought you loved me," he whispered.

Tears were growing in Christine's eyes, because she knew she was losing something, and she replied, "I thought I loved you, too." But at the same time, she was gaining everything. "Raoul…" Christine thought of all the time they had spent together, spent with her father, and had the sudden comprehension that she wasn't losing these memories by losing the people in them. "Raoul… You were the only connection I had to my father. Of course I loved you."

"So—Why…?" He motioned to Erik.

"Because…" Christine searched for her words. "Because while you and I share that bond of memories of my father… I won't ever lose those memories, and I—I don't really, well, _need_ you to be able to… to be close with my father. I know now that I won't lose him like I thought I would. And I also know now that some bonds are stronger than memories."

Raoul nodded, a small, faint nod, and he looked back and forth from Christine to Erik and cleared his throat. "Well," he said, and started towards the door. "I think you're probably late for your rehearsal by now." And with one last slightly bewildered look at the two, he strode off down the corridor.

Christine rested her head on Erik's shoulder. He whispered throatily into her ear to go to rehearsal and she wordlessly left. Erik collapsed onto Christine's bed and stared out the window in front of him. As soon as he had noticed Christine's missing ring, he had realized that he had not only possessed memories of another life upon reaching this time, but visions of another future, as well.

Erik felt oddly content, and just before he went to sleep, he thought, Now if I could just get back to my present… 

* * *

Francine Giry flipped through the pages of her Phantom of the Opera book. Most were full now, and only five remained blank. She knew her two time-travelers would soon return, and looked around at her surroundings for one of the last times. Dishes were piled in the sink, dirty clothes overflowing from the hamper. Sheet music was in unorganized piles on the piano.

Mrs. Giry had received countless calls from Christine's parents, and she had assured them that their daughter was simply on a two-and-a-half week long music seminar. She gave a wry smile and relaxed on her messy couch. The tattered pages of the book on the table in front of Francine fluttered slightly, and she sighed. Soon… They'd be back soon…

* * *

Erik felt his shoulder being roughly shaken and he sat up with a start. Christine was standing over him, and the sun was setting behind her, making her hair seem to glow. Sleepily, he reached up for her and pulled her into him. He felt guilty. He was living for the moments when he could be with her, touch her, have this proof that she loved him in return. Erik felt embarrassed of his insecurity, and loosened his hold on Christine.

Sighing, Christine said, "We don't have much more time here. I know it. Tomorrow is the performance." She turned to Erik and watched him carefully. "Why do you insist on wearing your mask around me?"

Immediately Erik looked embarrassed and ashamed. Christine wished she hadn't said anything, but didn't back off. Her eyes seemed to prompt Erik, and he got up and moved away from her and stared out the window at the sunset. Finally, when Erik spoke, his voice was clear and cold. "I thought you didn't care about my mask."

"I don't! I just--"

"You just what , Christine? Curiosity finally got the better of you?" Erik's voice took on a high, fake girlish tone. "You wanted to know what was underneath? You wanted to see how ugly I am?" Now Erik's voice was disgusted. "I thought you loved me. I thought you didn't care."

It was now Christine's turn to feel embarrassed and ashamed, and she knew she should just let this go, that she should never have brought this topic up in the first place, but stupidly, she plowed on. "That's really nice, Erik," she said sarcastically. "You obviously don't even trust me enough to believe that I'll keep loving you no matter how you look. And yet you tell me that I don't love you ."

Erik's eyes blazed and he stepped threateningly towards Christine. "I hate you," he said flatly. "After all this time, you still accuse me of not fully loving you. You know what?" Erik was striking out with words now, wanting to hurt and embarrass Christine in the same way she had him. "You don't know what love is. You'll probably never know. You're just too stupid to see it when it stares you in the face."

"Oh!" cried Christine. "You mean like you are! Staring me in the face!" Christine reached out and ripped Erik's mask off.

He was silent. She was silent. Shadows in the room grew steadily longer as the sun progressed downwards. What had started out as a look of shock on Erik's expression turned to one of complete disappointment and pain, and now was steadily becoming one of anger. Christine was unconsciously mirroring his expressions on her own face.

Tentatively, she reached out and traced a small scar on Erik's cheek. His cheekbone felt odd and oversized, and slowly she moved her fingertips up to the one-half of his forehead where the bone jutted out over his eye. Erik closed his eyes to stop the tears that prickled in them, and then felt frustrated that was actually crying, and with relief let his anger bubble up and control him.

He snatched his mask out of Christine's hand and shoved it back on his face. He sneered at her and grabbed her shoulders and shook her. "Have you had your fun now? Are we done being entertained with poor Erik?" He stopped shaking her and she stumbled away from him. "Run," he hissed, and his anger was so catastrophic that he couldn't think past it. It was a block in his brain that all other emotions hid behind. "Run, Christine. Get away from me. I was sure nice while I was in the present, though, wasn't I? Or did my scars scare you then, too?"

In two steps, he caught up with the horrified Christine, who was trembling beside the bed next to her. She watched him with dawning realization as he pushed her onto the bed and pressed his hand over her mouth. "You liar," he hissed into her ear as she struggled underneath him. "You loved me!" Erik breathed into her ear and ran his mouth down her cheek. A deep, awful laugh welled up in him and poured out. "Do you love me now? I frighten you now, don't I. I sicken you."

Christine pounded her fists on Erik's shoulders, and with a gigantic push, heaved him off of her. She leapt up from underneath him and he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her down onto his lap. "The crazy thing is," he said, his words like poison arrows hissing into her ear, "I hate you so much, but no matter how much I want to stop loving you…" Erik's breathing was labored and it tickled her cheek. "… I can't. And that only makes me hate you more."

All in one movement, Erik turned and lay on top of Christine on the bed once more. Concentrating on getting away from him, she grunted, "Why are you doing this?" Erik shrugged on top of her, and cupped her face in his hands. Christine's fear and hurt were seeping into her and she momentarily admired Erik's ability to hide his other emotions behind his anger.

"Maybe I like this," Erik growled, and Christine shivered underneath him.

"What are you going to do to me?" she whispered.

Erik seemed to jump and sat straight up. He looked down at Christine from his position and shock showed largely and obviously on his face. He leapt up and towards the mirror, and then stopped, turned around and looked at Christine, who was standing awkwardly. Erik muttered something and strode quickly towards her, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her fiercely on the mouth. Stunned, she didn't even struggle against him. Finally Erik turned and left the room, leaving the mirror open behind him.


	17. Chapter 17

**This is the last chapter! I'm sad the story's over... Thanks so much for all the reviews, I love you guys! You've really helped me get through this story. And of course, please review for this chapter!

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Chapter 17

The thin Aminta costume glittered in the dim light. Its gold skirt glittered and winked at Christine, and she swirled around, watching it flutter about her legs, mesmerized. She heard a faint creak on the floorboards behind her and ignored it. A throat cleared. Christine slowly turned around. Erik stood behind her, and she watched him. Fear had rapidly turned to anger as soon as he had left yesterday, and anger had stayed right up until this moment. Now Christine felt her anger flee from her, and a wave of sadness and disappointment crashed down instead.

Christine was speechless in its grasp, and stared blindly up at the image of Erik in front of her. He cleared his throat uncomfortably, and opened his mouth to speak when Christine cut him off.

"I loved you," she whispered hoarsely, and turned and fled from the room. Erik helplessly watched her leave. He turned to the clock. Five thirty p.m. There was still another two hours until the performance, and he knew Christine would have to go into makeup in another hour. He hurried after her swiftly retreating back, panic swelling in him. Something urged him that this was the last chance. Time hissed in his ears and pushed him on.

Erik ran down the old wooden hallway, and up the stairs, and there was Christine, collapsed in the Silent Room. This time, there were no little floating lights filling the room. Clouds had moved in and the room was dark and shadowy. "Christine!" Erik exclaimed. She turned her pale face up to his. He collapsed on his knees in front of her. She shrunk away from him.

"Christine, please… please, forgive me." She stared up at him, her eyes wide and dead. She had finally let someone in, had released her fear of herself, and now she felt that she had been right to have these fears all along. They had been protection.

And Erik had stolen this protection, and he had tricked her! Depression turned swiftly back into anger, and Christine dearly appreciated this change of emotion. She leapt to her feet and stared down at Erik, feeling for once like she held the upper hand.

"What were you thinking?" she began, her voice low and heavy, masking the angry lump that lurked underneath it. "What did you really intend to do?" Erik rose slowly to his feet. He reached out for Christine. "Stay away from me!" she cried, shrinking from him and towards the wall behind her. Why did anger have to leave now, right when she needed it?

"Why did you get so angry when I asked about your mask? Why? After I--" Christine gulped. "I let you through, I let you in, and so you saw through _my_ mask--" Erik stepped towards her and Christine swung at him. "I loved you…! And—and I didn't even know it--!" Angry tears leaked out the corners of her eyes.

"Oh, Christine," Erik breathed, and wrapped his arms around her. She pushed against him and stumbled away.

"No," she gasped, and turned towards the stained-glass window behind her. "Don't hurt me anymore."

For a moment, time hissed and swirled around the couple, uniting them with one common end. For this couldn't go on forever. Time gives chances, and we, the figures of time, control how we use these chances. Erik understood, and desperately he stepped towards Christine.

An undercurrent of despair crept into Erik's voice. "Christine… I was embarrassed—and I was afraid. I so badly want you to love me, and I—could hardly believe that you did. You have to believe me when I say that no one, ever, has treated me with anything other than pity when they've seen my—deformity… except my aunt, and I so badly wanted _you_ to love me. I was afraid that you would pity me instead." Erik cleared his throat loudly, trying to banish the husky note in it. Christine had turned around to face him, and she slowly stepped towards him. He gazed hopefully at her face.

"I _do…_ love you," he whispered.

She watched his expression and felt a wrenching inside of her. Sepia slowly began to tint the room, and a mutual understanding passed between their eyes. Time was leaving them. Christine turned and walked out of the room, and her thoughts jumbled and she couldn't make sense of them. Anger was back, but in a silent, bitter form. Christine wanted so many things, among them more time, and that was leaving her, along with Erik, along with her ability to love, along with everything.

An hour passed and Christine now stood behind the wings, hearing the chatter of the audience. She looked around at the people she felt she knew now, at the place where in an odd way she had found herself, found half of her soul. Gaston Franco, a short and dumpy man who was playing Don Juan, stood next to her and winked. Somewhere, in her memories of this time, she would remember that wink. It said 'good luck' and, in it's own way, 'goodbye' as well.

The music began and Christine heard the first scene slowly progress in a kind of numbness. Then the second scene. Then hands were pushing against her back and Madame Giry hissed in her ear, "_Go!_"

Christine stepped out onto the stage and began to sing her part, savoring this odd feeling. There was nothing like it. Two times seemed to be melded into one, and this moment was the bridge between both. An intoxicating headiness surrounded each musical note, each movement. It was into this headiness that Erik stepped.

His voice melded the emotions of the audience, creating another bridge just with sound alone. Three bridges now stood on the stage: the wooden one that made up the set, the one created by Erik, and the one created by Christine. She stared in shock at Erik, wondering what he had done with Gaston. She resisted his voice as hard as she could, but soon it overpowered her. The Point of No Return scene had begun.

_In your mind you've already succumbed to me…_

Erik was behind Christine and ran his hands over her arms and up her neck. Completely overcome by the music, she leaned against him. He took his chance, and hissed into her ear, "You love me…" Startled, Christine turned in his arms and looked up at him.

_Dropped all defenses, completely succumbed to me…_

He ran his fingers down her arm and breathed into her ear, "You've decided…" Christine opened her mouth to say something, anything, and then realized it was her turn to sing.

_You have brought me to that moment when words run dry…_

Christine found that her feet were moving up the ladder of the bridge. Conscious thought no longer entered her head. Time was swirling and encasing the two figures on the bridge.

Slowly, their voices rose to a crescendo, and then died out. Both stood on the middle of the platform, Erik with his arms around Christine, and the combination of music, memory, and each other served to make time that much more powerful.

"This is the final threshold," Erik whispered into Christine's ear as she leaned against him. "Can we move on? Can you love me?"

She turned to him, and a tsunami of emotions crashed inside of her, all beaten down by one: Love. Bitterness had been replaced by hope, and communication existed between their eyes alone. Time swished louder, an ocean current pulling on them. The audience watched, breathless.

Time swirled faster and fasted, and the spinning began. Wind ripped at the couple, but encased in each other's arms, they felt nothing. Love can survive time, and always will.

With a whump, Christine and Erik landed unsteadily on their feet in front of Francine Giry's piano. The sheet music they had been holding when they left 2006 lay on the floor in front of them. Erik bent and picked it up, slowly gazing at his surroundings, his arm still around Christine's waist to steady himself. Everything was just as they had left it, neat and tidy. No time at all had passed since they left. The only difference was the white mask that still covered Erik's left cheek, and Francine either didn't notice that it was there or pretended not to.

Francine sat on the piano bench and looked expectantly up at her pupils. Christine finally noticed she was there and jumped. Francine stared up at them. "Are you two going to sing yet?" she said, looking pointedly at the verses that lay on the floor. Erik gave Christine a quizzical look, but both simply began to sing, ignoring the papers on the ground. Francine accompanied them perfectly, and with that, the final bridge was completed.

When the song ended, Erik pulled Christine aside and into the library. The old copy of _The Phantom of the Opera_ sat on the table, and Christine went and picked it up as Erik said in a confused voice, "What just happened? Did absolutely no time at all pass since we left? Does no one even know what happened?" He noticed he was still wearing his mask and pulled it off, cradling it in his hands and staring at it.

Christine thumbed through the old pages, and shrugged. "Does it matter? Now we're back in our own year…" She set the book down, stepped towards Erik and leaned into him. "…And we've got all the time in the world."

If Christine and Erik would've looked at the back page of the book, they would've found a small note written in black ink:

_To Miss Francine Giry, 1861_

_Our story was simply out of a book. I will always love you, no matter what year it is. _

_From your special friend_

But they didn't see the note, and they were right, it didn't matter.

**Epilogue**

After Christine Daae and the Phantom of the Opera disappeared, in front of 300-some people, no less, there was pandemonium. Most of the audience thought it was simply a trick of the opera house, and left believing so. Backstage, it was another story.

Gaston Franco was found slumped over a chair with a bloody lip and large bump on his head after "refusing to allow the Phantom of the Opera to steal his part."

No one had any idea where the young diva had disappeared to, and she was never found. Only Raoul de Changy had the slightest idea of why she had disappeared, and he never told anyone. And, of course, there was Madame Giry. She seemed to know a bit more than she was letting on.

The story was never fully explained. Only Erik and Christine ever knew what really happened. Oh, and Francine Giry, of course. But she never acknowledged that she knew.

Time moved on, keeping its secrets and holding them close. And Christine and Erik, the figures of time, decided to take their secrets with them, too.

**The End**


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